


Mhairie: The Dead of Night

by marysiak



Series: The Mhairie Stories [4]
Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 10:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6607927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marysiak/pseuds/marysiak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another random Mhairie snippet, written in 1998. Garibaldi gets a late night visitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mhairie: The Dead of Night

**Author's Note:**

> Babylon 5 and the characters within it were created by J Michael Straszinsky and do not belong to me. I am not profiting from this story in any material way. This story belongs to me and should not be reproduced or without permission.

  
**B5: The Dead of Night**  
 **by Amethyst (April 1998)**   
   
   
It was late. That was the first thought to enter his mind. Late, and there was a noise. He was asleep and there was a noise. No, he was awake and there was a noise. A noise...   
   
Michael Garibaldi hauled himself to a sitting position and called for lights, they came on at a low setting. "Time?" he asked.   
   
"Three forty-eight am," whispered the computer.   
   
The door beeped again, and then again. He grabbed a gown and pulled it over his shoulders as he headed for the door, rubbing his face.  "Open."   
   
The door opened and a petite woman slid in hissing, "Close the door." He recognised her as his vision cleared and closed the door, one of his occasional informants. Legit, not a lurker, she sang in one of the bars and did occasional freelance work as a designer. She was trouble, indirectly, as she had an on and off affair going with one of the more dangerous semi-legit traders. He rubbed his face again, bits of it felt like they were still asleep.   
   
"It's kind of late," he complained.   
   
"And I thought you'd appreciate having a beautiful woman arrive unexpectedly in your quarters, Mr Garibaldi," she replied sarcastically.   
   
"Oh, I see, this is supposed to be a treat." They had never got on very well, her sarcasm always set off his sarcasm and then she would slope off in a mood. "You came to sing me to sleep?"   
   
"Look, I don't have time for this crap. Someone overheard us last week and used the information to get themselves out of a sticky situation." She paced over to his rumpled bed and sat down. "Just cause I fuck him doesn't mean I can get away with anything, his men are out casually looking for me right now so they can casually dispose of me in a very laid back but painful manner. So I figured, where's the safest place to be? And the quarters of the head of security sounded pretty good to me." She lay back and kicked off her shoes. "After all, you got me into this."   
   
"Hey, you're the one sleeping around with criminals," he protested.   
   
She simply gave him a look.   
   
"Okay. Here's what we're going to do. I'm gonna take you down to security, we'll..."   
   
She got to her feet. "No way! Right now he doesn't know I know he's out to get me. As long as he thinks I'm none the wiser he'll take things slowly. The minute he knows I've told security he's in real danger and he'll go all out to kill me before I can say anything I shouldn't."   
   
"And you don't think being here is going to tip him off to that?"   
   
"First, they probably didn't see exactly where I went and second," she took hold of the lapel of his robe and pulled his face a little closer to her own. "If they did, I made it look like I was coming here for...  other reasons. They already know we're involved somehow, if we go racing out in the middle of the night and head for security it'll blow my cover."   
   
"Look, much as I'd love to argue this with you, it's late and I'm tired." He took her by the shoulders and moved her aside. "Goodnight." He took off the gown, got back into bed and called "Lights out." The room went black.   
   
He buried his face in the pillow and listened to hear what she would do. For a while she just stood there, then he heard the faint rustle of clothes being removed. He bit back a groan, how come on the one night he really wanted some sleep he ended up trapped in some teenage boy's wet dream. He determined that he was going to go to sleep, come hell or high water.   
   
She lifted the covers and slipped in beside him. She pressed herself against his back, one arm coming around his waist and legs rubbing against his. "I knew you wouldn't turn me away, Michael," she whispered.   
   
He grunted as uninvitingly as he could manage. Her hand slid up his chest and he could feel her breasts brush against his back as she nuzzled into his shoulder. She bit his neck lightly. Ignoring her wasn't getting him very far. He took hold of her hand and pushed it away. "Cut that out."   
   
"What? The great Michael Garibaldi doesn't lower himself to fool around with the likes of me? I'm traumatised."   
   
He was annoyed that he could detect an undertone of real upset under her bantering tone. For a start he should be too damn tired to notice. But he had to admit to himself that he was feeling more and more alert, which only meant he'd be catatonic tomorrow.   
   
Her hand began to run over his side then moved down to squeeze his ass through his pyjama bottoms. With unexpected force he rolled over and pinned her to the bed. "Will you cut that out!"   
   
For a moment he paused there, unsure what to do next, then he called out "Lights." The room was bathed in dim light and he was suddenly lying on top of a beautiful and naked woman whose hands he had pinned to either side of her head. As his cock sprang to attention he really wished he hadn't done that. She looked up at him expectantly, lips slightly parted and a softness in her eyes that he wouldn't have expected. For a moment he considered a cold, uncomfortable, insomniac night on the couch, but only for a moment. Then he kissed her.   
   
He'd always loved that moment when you kissed someone, really kissed them, for the first time. In that moment you could tell, through all the junk in your head, exactly how you felt about someone. In that moment he knew this had been inevitable from the moment they had met. He had wanted her.   
   
\-----   
   
He had been sitting in the midst of one of the oldest cliches in the book, the 20th century gangster movie. His hat was casting an obscuring shadow across his face and on the small stage a slim, blonde was singing an old jazz/blues number.   
   
"Alone in a tavern, people all around.   
Laughin' and dancin', paintin' the town.   
Juke boxes playin' songs about you,   
Songs with memories makin' me blue.   
Baby, come on home.   
Without my baby I just couldn't get along.   
I just gotta, I just gotta,   
I gotta have my baby back."   
   
She had it spot on and she was a looker too, pity he had more important things to do tonight than appreciate her performance or the ambiance for that matter. Several tables over sat another man who was paying avid attention to the singer. His name was Cal and he was responsible for a good deal of the blackmarket goods that passed through the station, under his cover as a legit trader in light weaponry and defense systems. But right now they had nothing concrete on him so it was strictly observation.   
   
The girl finished her set and then walked straight into the plot. She wove her way to Cal's table and sat down in his lap, he greeted her with a kiss. Damn, thought Garibaldi, how come the hottest women always get involved with the worst guys. On the other hand, he had got more women that way when his reputation had been less than sterling. Not that any of them had stuck around.   
   
She sat with Cal till he left then finished her drink and started to make her way backstage. As she passed his table he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the empty seat. She looked surprised but didn't protest at the treatment.   
   
"What's a nice girl like you doing with a crook like Cal?" he asked.   
   
She burst out laughing.   
   
"Sorry," he said. "I just couldn't help myself. But the question stands."   
   
She took hold of herself and looked him in the eye with a gaze far more intelligent than he would have credited her. Then she smiled.  "He's a good lay," she said, and walked away.   
   
He stayed to listen to her next set, he'd lost Cal by now anyway.   
   
\-----   
   
As he looked into her eyes she saw the change happen. For the very first time he looked at her as part of the real world. Not part of the criminal drama he spent most of his waking hours immersed in. Those people weren't real to him, if they were he couldn't hunt them and he couldn't use them the way he had used her to get information. They were below him. It wasn't a prejudice, it was the way he had to be to do his job. Most people wouldn't even see it. She saw it.   
   
She remembered when she had first become aware of it, the second time they had met.   
   
\-----   
   
She hadn't seen him as she approached her door. Something she castigated herself for later, this was a dangerous place and she had to pay more attention. He had waited until her door was open and then swooped forward, pushing her inside.   
   
"I'm not going to hurt you," were the first words out of his mouth as she turned around in terror to face her attacker. She knew his face but couldn't place it.   
   
"What do you want?"   
   
"I just want to ask you a few questions, we met before. A few nights ago when you were singing."   
   
"The guy from the bar," she remembered. "You asked me about Cal."   
   
"That's right, now I want to ask you about him again. And I'd appreciate a more detailed answer. Sit down." He pointed at the sofa.   
   
It was then she noticed it, the way he ordered her to sit down. The distracted look in his eyes, a brief look up and down her body to register the fact she looked good but no real interest. She was a conduit, a way to access information. He would use the words necessary to access that information just as he would key in a search on the computer.   
   
She sat down. Almost fascinated by his single mindedness, despite the shiver it sent down her spine at being seen that way. "So what do you want to know? Who goes on top?"   
   
He ignored her jibe, "Tell me who his main contacts are. Who does he buy from?"   
   
She laughed at him, again. "You're asking the wrong person. I don't give a damn about his business. Besides, who the hell are you that I should tell you anything? You gonna kill me if I don't talk, Mr Mafia?"   
   
He actually smiled. "That's some pretty old history you're pulling up there. You from Earth?"   
   
"Mars, you haven't answered my question."   
   
"Fine, I'm Michael Garibaldi, head of station security."   
   
Her mouth made a silent oh.   
   
"So did I just screw up or are you going to help me?"   
   
Of course he had read her right, which was infuriating. Now her interest was piqued she'd help him out. "Well, why the hell not. But you better not get me into any trouble."   
   
"All you have to do is tell me what you hear. I'll do the rest."   
   
\-----   
   
He broke the kiss and rolled onto his side, releasing her hands. He ran fingers down her cheek and over her lips.   
   
She saw his thoughts start to drift. "It's gonna really mess up our plans," he said. "If he knows you talked he'll cancel all the current deals and..."   
   
She covered his mouth with her hand. "Don't you start fading out on me again, Michael. So you lost him again, it's just a job."   
   
"No it's not." He pulled away and sat up facing away.   
   
She followed him, putting her arms around his waist and leaning her head against his shoulder. "Yes, it is. You know your problem?"   
   
"Why do I get the feeling you're about to tell me."   
   
"You have an obsessional personality. And you know what I think, I think it's burned you one too many times and so you've decided to get obsessional about something that can't hurt you. Your job."   
   
There was silence.   
   
"But you're wrong you know," she kissed his shoulder. "Anything can hurt you if you care about it enough."   
   
He didn't say anything. Part of him was angry at her for being right. Angry enough to shout if he didn't keep quiet, angry enough to hit her if he didn't stay still. Which only proved her point, which only made it worse. Just as he felt he would lose all reason she slid around into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, and kissed him.   
   
He grabbed the release and rolled her over, pressing her back into the bed as he drowned his anger in sensation.   
   
\-----   
   
He was woken up by the lights coming up to daytime levels, the computer announced, "This is your alarm call, the time is 6.45am. You have 4 messages, none are urgent. Today is Tuesday, you have an important appointment at 7.30am."   
   
Garibaldi groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the silky hair that covered the pillow next to him. Confused he pulled back as the computer repeated itself in slightly louder tones. The figure next to him muttered under its breath and wrapped its arms around it's head. As the computer started again he broke into it's litany, "I'm awake, alarm off."  The computer shut up.   
   
He got up and hit the bathroom at speed.    
   
 


End file.
